


The Fastest Way To Drive Someone Crazy

by MillyDelLuz



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Awesome Prussia (Hetalia), Lovers quarrels, M/M, Pianist Austria (Hetalia), Prussia Being a Jerk (Hetalia), Top Prussia (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillyDelLuz/pseuds/MillyDelLuz
Summary: He didn’t have to worry about anything, he didn’t have to think about all that bothered him in his everyday life. Not only that, but it was near impossible to draw him from his playing. This, of course, is why Roderich didn’t notice a man staring at him through binoculars in the house next door.
Relationships: Austria/Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	The Fastest Way To Drive Someone Crazy

Roderich strode into his quiet music room, the piano’s cover down as he’d left it the previous evening. He walked over to the windows and pulled lightly on the curtains Elizaveta had made him so many years ago for their anniversary. The red fabric fell with grace, sealing the room up from all outside light. Roderich cursed softly under his breath and pulled harder on the hems, trying to tie them back so he’d have enough light to read music by. His fingers fumbled as he tried to knot the long sheaths of cloth, having misplaced the actual ribbons meant to officially tie them.

Surely this was one of the downsides of never cleaning up after himself, Roderich thought as he finished up looping the curtains. It wasn’t pretty by any means, but it would be sufficient for him to make out the notes, which is all he really wanted in the first place. Roderich didn’t usually use written music due to the large amount of songs he knew by heart, but he’d started to devote Wednesdays to sight reading and composing.

He dusted off the bench with a careless hand and sat down, letting the bottom of his rich purple coat slink down the edge of the seat. Roderich straightened his back, stretched out his arms, and lifted the lid of the piano. It was only a moment before he stared at the sheet music he’d lined up on the rack, and started to play through the notes. 

To Roderich, the whole world seemed to vanish when his fingers touched the keys, the only part of the universe that still existed being the harmonies that danced through the cavernous room. He didn’t have to worry about anything, he didn’t have to think about all that bothered him in his everyday life. Not only that, but it was near impossible to draw him from his playing. This, of course, is why Roderich didn’t notice a man staring at him through binoculars in the house next door.

For Gilbert, this afternoon was anything but typical. He watched Roderich’s face move subconsciously to the emotion in the music, his eyebrows furrowing as he pounded the keys quickly - and later, his expression became serene and relaxed as his fingers gracefully ran the slow arpeggios. The guy was one of the most stuck up, complaining men Gilbert had the pleasure to say he knew, but he did like the way Roderich was when he played music. 

The best part of it was that Roderich didn’t utter a word - at least from what Gilbert could see. In reality, Roderich would sit, and occasionally mutter a swear or two in German when the notes didn’t come out quite right, but fortunately that wasn’t visible from Gilbert’s vantage point. 

Gilbert smiled, and whistled for his pet bird. “Gilbird, look,” he said, pointing down at his oblivious neighbor, “Doesn’t that look fun?”

The little yellow bird chirped cheerfully, and Gilbert ran his hand down its soft feathers. “There must be something better to do that watching,” Gilbert whined to his pet, resting his chin on a closed fist, “Because being in the center of the action is awesome, and that’s where the most awesome people like us belong.”

The bird chirped again, and Gilbert stared down at Roderich through squinted fuschia eyes. Sure, maybe he wouldn’t be able to get down there that instant, but his neighbor allowed him in often - even though Gilbert had always acted like he had some sort of vendetta against the composer. To Roderich, the only merit of remaining friends was the interesting Gilbert brought into his life. After his divorce with his wife, Elisaveta, Roderich almost felt like the color had gone out of the world. He could hardly recall a time he hadn’t been married, and being alone was forgien in a way to him. Now, of course, he was used to it, but he liked to keep people like Gilbert to spice up his day to day activities.

Gilbert, on the other hand, rather disliked Roderich. He hated how messy the man was, with his underwear lying all over the house any time he went over. He couldn’t stand the high-and-mighty attitude Roderich put on all the time, demanding what he wanted from everyone and taking what he felt like. He resented how many times Roderich had been married, especially since he’d been with very few friends his entire life. I don’t need anyone, Gilbert grinned manaichully, still petting his little bird, I’m so awesome, anyone with me would probably just melt from my sheer amazingness. 

Still, just watching Roderich from his second-story window wasn’t good enough for Gilbert. He’d have to go down there and do something, maybe embarrass his neighbor a little. In Gilbert’s opinion, being a constant embarrassment was all the man was good for - well, that and music. But how? That was the only question remaining in Gilbert’s mind - not whether or not he’d go mess with Roderich (that was a given), but just how he’d do it.

Meanwhile, Roderich played through more music. Sure, he had the best composers, but he’d played through some of Ludwig’s pianist’s scores and decided they weren’t half bad. He was about to search out another piece when he heard a knocking come from the door. Roderich rolled his eyes and stood up, shutting the piano’s lid with a soft click. It was probably just someone coming to deliver some mail, anyways, nothing he’d need to worry about.

The knocking continued. “Who is it?” Roderich asked, the sound of his voice echoing through the halls of his house, “If you are here with a package, just leave it.”

He tried looking through the peep-hole, but still couldn’t determine who was at the door. With an exhausted sigh, Roderich pulled the solid brass knob and looked outside. “Hallo Roddy!” Gilbert exclaimed, his bird sitting silently on the top of his silvery hair, “It is I, your most awesomest-”

Roderich slammed the door in his face. “Go away. I do not want to deal with your nonsense right now. Go on back to the land of stupidness, or wherever you came.”

Well, Gilbert couldn’t let this happen. He ran through his options. He’d need a good excuse for have Roderich let him back in, that was for sure. He’s a lazy priss. Gilbert mused, So he’s going to do anything that keeps him from doing work. “No, I’m here to make dinner. Let me in!”

The composer thought about this for a second. All he wanted for the rest of the evening was to sit and play piano, which didn’t leave too much time for making dinner. In truth, he didn’t exactly want Gilbert to go away - some conversation might be a nice addition to the evening, and without Gilbert he knew he wouldn’t be getting any of that. Despite his better judgments, Roderich reluctantly opened the door. “Fine. Come on in.”

Gilbert walked in the archway proudly before scanning the room. He made a gagging noise, “Mein gott, do you never clean this place? It’s such a mess!”

“Ah, well,” Roderich shrugged off the comment, “Must just bother you. I am fine with it.”

Gilbert made a mental note to do something about all the clothing thrown everywhere around the house. He wondered how you end up with a pair of underwear lying on the kitchen table, but with Roderich, anything was possible. “I will start dinner.”

“You will make what I want, right?” Roderich asked, trying his best to stare down the taller man. 

Gilbert stared back with as much conviction. “Nein. I will make the most amazing culinary delight you’ve ever tasted!” he poked Roderich hard in the stomach, “Say, why’s your stomach so hard? I never see you doing any exercise-”

Roderich shoved the offending poker away, his face pinking up. “Stop touching my corset or I’ll smack you,” he said, frowning as he marched back to his piano, defeated in the battle for dinner.

Instead of following him, Gilbert trotted off to the kitchen. His lips stretched into a diabolical grin - if there was one thing the Austrian would regret, it would be letting him into his house.

He looked through the cabinets to determine what he’d have to work with in terms of dinner supplies. Apparently Roderich hadn’t gone to the store recently, and whenever he did, he got the cheapest foods he could. He’s still stingy as always, Gilbert stared at the crumbling bread, For such an aristocrat, I’d hardly have expected him to keep up this nonsense.

Despite this, Gilbert set to work making soup and pretzels. He’d brought a fancy package of Prussian marzipan, which he figured he’d be able to save for desert. The soup steamed nicely, a large warm cloud of condensation building up. Gilbert grinned as he poured it into two bowls. Out of the back of his pocket, he pulled a package of spicy pepper flakes. Gilbert read out the package serving size under his breath - Add a pinch for one serving. Warning: this product is incredibly spicy, and too much may cause headaches, rise in- Gilbert stopped reading.

He shook the container, watching as nearly half the contents found their way into the bowl of blood soup he’d made. If I know Roddy, and I know him, Gilbert mixed the pepper flakes in with a silver spoon until they were seamlessly one part of the liquid, He’ll eat this whole verdammt bowl because he won’t want to seem pathetic.

Gilbert found his way to the music room, interrupting Roderich mid-composition. “Kesesese - Roddy, your most awesome dinner is ready - made in the coolest classic Prussia style!”

Lightly, Roderich locked the top of his piano, and slid the paper he was composing on into the bench, which he pushed under the piano. Then, he strode over and untied the curtains with more effort than having curtains was worth. Exhausted from the effort, he returned to Gilbert. “Now, what did you make me for dinner?”

Gilbert handed Roderich the spicy bowl of soup, spoon he’d used to stir in the pepper still in it. He nabbed one of the pretzels he’d made, and realizing that he’d neglected to give Roderich a plate, shoved it in his unsuspecting mouth. “Here you go! All of this is the best food in Prussia, I guarantee you! Now, go take a seat and I’ll come eat with you.”

The Prussian picked up his own bowl and the remainder of the pretzels he’d made. He made haste in getting a spoon, he’d hate to miss any part of Roderich’s expression when he first got a taste of the glorious concoction. Thankfully, when he finally made his way over to the table, Roderich was waiting with two glasses of beer, the majority of his pretzel mostly gone. He looked sheepishly at Gilbert, “I suppose I could not help it. If anyone’s fault, it is yours, for shoving this in my mouth,” he paused, “And it’s also your fault it’s rather good.”

Gilbert smiled, “Of course it’s good. I made it, after all, and the awesome me doesn’t make bad pretzels. Now, let the fun begin!” he exclaimed, biting into a pretzel himself and started to drink the soup rapidly. Oh how wonderful potatoes would taste with this, the Prussian mused with a tiny bit of resentment, still slurping impolitely at his soup.

Meanwhile, Roderich had filled his spoon up with a decent amount of the orange soup. I bet this is just as good as his pretzels, verdammt, the Austrian thought with some jealousy, I mean, he seems to like it. Roderich poured the entirety of the liquid onto his tongue, immediately regretting the decision. For a moment he couldn’t feel a single thing, then the burning sensations slowly increased, the view of the table and Gilbert momentarily blurred from the heat. 

A part of him wanted to scream out, but watching Gilbert eat the soup so casually angered the composer. That bastard will probably tease me if I don’t finish this bowl of soup. After all, whatever it is, he can take it. 

It took a good amount of self control for Roderich to muster a smile and choke down the remainder of the soup. He wouldn’t say a word, he’d just finish this with a polite expression on his face. Some part of him felt that if he so much as tried to take in a single bit of air, he’d choke. The air would sting his throat, and he’d be coerced into admitting that he couldn’t take the soup. 

All through hiding his disdain, Roderich filled another spoonful of the soup. Putting that into his mouth, he tried to gag it back as quickly as possible without making a sound. He just couldn’t give Gilbert that kind of satisfaction. Had there been others at the table too, perhaps he would have complained out loud and insulted the Prussian’s cooking abilities, but he didn’t quite feel up to it. Not with it just being Gilbert sitting there - the man was unpredictable, and Roderich hardly knew what would happen if he said so much as a single word to protest.

As he went in for his third scoop of soup, he heard a sound. “How do you like mein cooking, Roddy? Kesesese! Isn’t it just fantastic?”

Shut up Gilbert. He thought, trying to keep a face of serenity. You will never know how much I hate this soup, you will never-

Gilbert pushed another pretzel into Roderich’s mouth, and it was all he could do to keep from sputtering. Roderich could hear the other man laughing at something - probably his expense. He felt heat wash down his neck and face, filled with the embarrassment that he was hoping wasn’t very apparent at all. Roderich wished Gilbert would give it up, would just go away. Even if he left for just a minute, Roderich could dump the soup down the sink, or he could knock it on the floor and deem it an accident. The only issue was, he couldn't do any of that with Gilbert sitting there, grinning like some kind of devil.

Gilbert, for his part, couldn’t believe that the Austrian had lasted this long. He himself had tasted the peppers before, and knew that they brought tears to his own fuschia eyes. How Roderich had managed to keep his mouth shut was a mystery to Gilbert, but he was equally as determined to embarrass the man and make him lapse into a coughing fit.

“Wait a second. You have some food on your cheek right-” Gilbert reached across the table and ran his fingers down the side of Roderich’s face, who was now quite red with the effort he’d been putting in to keep his mouth shut. Gilbert wished he could paint the way Roderich’s face was, all red, the tongue bitten as he did his best to keep a neutral expression.

Roderich swallowed hard, almost halfway through the bowl. He swatted Gilbert’s hand away, still unwilling to give him the satisfaction of winning. Gilbert still wouldn’t give up either, “Hey, wait. I did not get it. Kesese - just stay right there and I can just-” he licked his thumb and bent over, stretching his hand just far enough to rub at the arbitrary spot he’d chosen.

It was a fine line before Roderich knew he wouldn’t be able to stand the madness anymore. He was fuming with frustration and still unable to talk, but he wouldn’t say a single thing. No. He wished he’d complained about the soup when he’d had the chance. He could feel Gilbert’s fingers pinching at his cheeks, which was (just barely) all well and good until his thumb slipped over to the corner of Roderich’s mouth, stretching his lips. 

Roderich choked and buckled over, coughing with every fragment of his being into the crook of his arm. He couldn’t think about Gilbert, too much anger and frustration clouded his thoughts. He could hardly see in front of him, his head aching from the amount he just couldn’t breath. As soon as he regained his thoughts, all Roderich could think was very limited. I should have insulted his scheiß soup when I had the chance.

A part of him was sincerely grateful to find the bowls all gone, and Gilbert washing them up in the kitchen. Still, Roderich felt the need to go in and complain more. “Use the water sparingly - I do not want you to rack up a huge bill with the water company.”

Gilbert gave a wild, careless laugh, “I can clean up. You can go play violin or something in the other room,” he paused, “Maybe after I am done, I can accompany you with some of my awesome electric air guitar solos!”

Roderich sighed in defeat and left the room. Gilbert watched him leave. If there’s one thing he should be learning from any of this, it is that he should not be leaving me alone. He put the final bowl on the drying rack, the sound of melodic violin carrying in from the other room. I’ve gotta give the guy credit there - his playing is excellent.

Now, the Prussian decided, it was time for more games. After all, the evening couldn’t possibly be over after a single game, could it? No, he decided, fun was something that was meant to be abundant, and surely this could be obtained by messing with Roderich. Gilbert turned back to the little bag he’d brought with him, filled with little game pieces. 

Eyeing the underwear still lying on the table, Gilbert knew he’d need a good plan for this next trick. Out of his bag, he picked up the little meltable wax candle and the stamp of the Prussian eagle that he’d had for ages. This one had better be good.

From the other room, Roderich was playing violin while trying to forget everything that had happened over dinner. Sure, he couldn’t stand Gilbert sometimes, but was it half bad to have to have to put up with him? Maybe when Gilbert wasn’t hell-bent on trying to embarrass him, maybe it was okay, but with his mouth full of the burning spicy soup, his whole body flushed with embarrassment? 

Roderich’s fingers tripped over the notes, and he swore under his breath. Not again. It was obnoxious to deal with Gilbert, but admittedly, it could be worse. Roderich cocked his ear to the other room, trying to decipher what the other man could have been doing. Well, I can hear the water running, so it must not be too bad, he thought, he cannot be up to tricks if he is washing the dishes, thank goodness for that!

On the other side of the door, Gilbert was eternally pleased that he’d decided to leave the sink on - even he couldn’t hear much of a difference!

After a while, Roderich did start to wonder how Gilbert could still possibly be washing dishes, even though he knew that he’d only used a single pot between the pretzels and the soup. They each had a spoon, and each a bowl, as well as a tall glass of beer (even though Roderich hadn’t gotten the chance to touch his). That meant that it shouldn’t take someone nearly half an hour to wash all the dishes, at least not a normal person.

Roderich moaned in desperation. He wished Gilbert would leave, at least a part of him did, but another part begged that he’d stay there and just be with him. Evenings like this got so lonely sometimes, even though Roderich knew he would refuse to admit that unless it was a life-or-death situation, and even then he didn’t know if his pride would get the best of him.

“Gilbert, are you almost done with the dishes yet?” Roderich called, taking a pause with his violin playing. 

He still couldn’t think of another good piece to play despite the fact he knew so many. His head still burned from the pepper, and his vision was a little fuzzy. The fake glasses weren’t really helping him much. Gilbert didn’t respond, so he called again, “I know you are done, so stop wasting the water.”

Gilbert froze. No. It wasn’t possible. Roderich couldn’t have known he wasn’t washing dishes anymore.

He ignored the comment again, continuing with his work. Even if Roderich walks in on me, he will be blown away by my awesomeness - and surely, no un-awesome person would be doing what I am now.

Roderich still didn’t understand why he got no call back, still hearing the water. He set the violin down in its case, carefully wrapping up the rosin in the light green casing and storing it in the felt container. Then, he rested the swatch of maroon silk he’d been given as a gift from his time with Antonio. This gives me the worries - why does he not say anything? I can not tell him this, he will surely think I am weak. No, I must order him around. This is my house, after all. “Gilbert, as the master of his household, I order you to stop-” Roderich opened the door that hid the kitchen from his line of sight.

His violet eyes met the Prussian’s magenta ones, which shone under the kitchen’s ceiling light. “Just what the hell do you think that you are doing?”

Gilbert grinned, his eyes lighting up with a strange fascination at the angry and distraught expression of the Austrian. “What does it look like I am doing? I am doing you a favor!”

Austria rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. I almost do not want to know what he is doing, and yet I am positive I must find out. “Whatever you are doing to my underwear is not a favor.”

Gilbert dangled a pair in front of him, hiding his face with it. He shook them hard, jumping down off the kitchen table where he’d been sitting, his pet bird fluttering off of his sliver head of hair and onto a beckoning finger. “Oh, Gilbird! You have decided to join me! Kesesese~” he turned to the other man, handing him a pair and pointing out his handiwork with a proud hand. “Look Roddy, I added the Prussian stamp.”

He laughed. “Is it not the most awesome pair of underwear you have seen? And look, it is not just this one! Consider it my gift to you!”

Roderich’s eyes twitched at the thought of having the Prussian eagle stamp on all of his pair of underwear. This time he has taken it too far - too far indeed. The rest I can tolerate, but not this! Where is Elizaveta when I need her? Roderich despaired, his face suddenly bright vermillion as he took control of the situation. “What kind of idea is this? This is not even your house, what do you mean by coming in here and taking control of it?”

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders with an easygoing grin. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he took a few steps closer to Roderich’s face until they were standing, just inches from their noses touching, “And besides, I think you like the idea of being owned by the awesome me!”

He tried to flash one of his award-winning smiles, but Roderich snatched up the underwear and stormed off. This is perfect. “I wish I had a picture of your face right now so that I could hang it up and the world would remember~” Gilbert called out behind his angry friend.

He still couldn’t fathom where the Austrian had gone, but shrugged and continued to melt the wax and stamp Prussian eagles on the remaining underwear he’d been able to gather from around the house without Roderich noticing. He felt a sense of benign pride, how well his pranks were working out. They had the perfect result, too - all he had wanted was to be in the center of the action, and now, he most certainly was. Still, he wondered where Roderich had run off to.

Roderich was fed up - although he generally enjoyed the tauntings Gilbert gave him, sometimes he pushed it a little too far. That’s what had happened with the evening, although rather than pushing him too far, Roderich was simply convinced that someone needed to put that crazy man in his place! He had no boundaries, no limits - no nothing! And now, it was time for Roderich to teach him a lesson!

He stood, looking in the mirror at the new addition to the underwear. Actually, he had to give props to Gilbert for both choosing a color that wasn’t obscene and putting the stamp somewhere that wasn’t overly embarrassing. Still, he’d have to be told whose house this was.

Gilbert had gotten antsy, and also ran out of pairs of underwear to stamp. He’d considered adding additional stamps to the ones he’d finished, but ultimately decided he didn’t want to waste his stamps like that. Gilbert thought to that evening - when he made it back to his house, he already had his diary entry written out in his mind. Dear diary. Today I was awesome! Not only that, but I went next door to have some fun with Mr. Edelstein. I think he had fun, too, but I don’t think he would actually admit that kind of th-.

Gilbert’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging noise coming from up the stairs. He blew out his wax candle with a short puff of air, and set it down on the table, letting the remaining scarlet wax melt out onto the wood. Ah well, he figured, Roddy can deal with it later. Or maybe I can. Awesomeness isn’t a mess.

The door slammed harshly behind him as he left the kitchen, and his footsteps echoed the halls as he ran up the stairs. He’d gotten to the top, but as night was falling, there was no light to prevent Gilbert from stumbling blindly through the carpeted halls. He wished he could see more than the darkness that surrounded him, still trying to trace where he’d heard the banging come from. “Roderich? Where did you go? Kesese ~ I didn’t know we were playing the hide and seek! Now, I will come to fiiiind you!”

He bumped into doors, stumbling into (from what he could see) was a master bedroom - except for the large chair in the center of the room. Maybe this composer is stranger than I thought, his mind whirred as he tried to make sense of the surroundings, cursing the bad lighting and his generally poor eyesight. Gilbert heard a voice from behind him. “Are you looking for someone?”

Gilbert recognized the voice instantly, just making the decision to play dumb and pretend he didn’t know who was talking. He leaned causally against the door frame, his sly grin invisible in the blackened room, all light from the outside blocked out by heavy drapes. “Why, yes as a matter of-”

“Well, then, I suppose you don’t need to ask for him, since he’s right here.” Something slipped backwards around his mouth, muffling the words. Hands pushed him from behind into the chair, and Gilbert could feel something fasten him to the chair. 

A candle lit up the room, held by an vexed Roderich. “And you thought I would be letting you finish messing up my house? Perhaps you need a reminder of whose house you are staying in.”

Gilbert wriggled the cloth away from his mouth, and started speaking. “Kesesese - you do not have the guts enough to go through with anything. Here, watch me leave this chair,” he stood up, and easily broke through the pathetically weak knots Roderich had tried to tie, “See? I have left the chair.”

Roderich had not expected a table turn so quickly. “Well, I have no good pranks to play back on you,” he explained with an air of haughtiness, accompanied by flustered frustration, “Why is that? Why do you get all the time with the good tricks?” 

“It takes motivation, and lots of planning and knowing who you are going to play the trick on. You have to know their strengths, weaknesses, and-” Gilbert was cut off by a pair of lips against his.

This surprised him - it was the one thing he didn’t believe Roderich would be able to go through with. Gilbert had heard stories from West about Roderich getting immensely angry, and going so far as to actually dole out punishments, so he didn’t rule that out as a possibility. Did he actually just… kiss me? Gilbert wondered. 

He’d spent so much time running away from relationships. Back when he was little, when he called himself the Teutonic Knights, he’d taken a vow of chastity. Because of this, anything that was relationship related was a bit of a shock to him. Roderich pushed him onto the bed, kissing him a second time. Gilbert pushed back - if he could dish it out, he had to take it too. That was how awesomeness was in his mind, it wasn’t backing down. It’s the same thing Roddy did with the soup - now that was true awesomeness.

Gilbert felt the skin on skin, the enticing excitement of the angry composer beside him, still refusing to break off the kiss. Instead, it developed into more of a fight as Gilbert tried to pin Roderich down - unsuccessfully, however, as the Austrian had the same goal. Gilbert’s hands traced down to the corset, getting him a quiet little moan that Roderich had done his best to stifle.

At last, his fingers made their way to the boxers, Gilbert’s fingers running around the edges of them. His fingers found the patches that had been sewed in over the years, and the tattered fabric they were now made out of. It certainly wasn’t terribly elegant, but he knew that Roderich didn’t care very much about that. His thumb found a smooth patch with a few bumps, something still slightly warm. It didn’t take light for Gilbert to know exactly what he’d found. 

“You do like my stamps, don’t you?”


End file.
